


Bad Day

by Kestrealbird



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Background Chocobros, Background Cindy, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Poor Prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 20:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11169558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: Sometimes Prompto has really bad days, when the voices in his head are too loud and everything feels too much. He should tell the others. But they have their own problems. He doesn't want to be another one.





	Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> I was having a bad week so I decided to write something sad and hollow.

It was just one of those days. One of those days when Prompto didn’t have the energy to get up in the morning, and just wanted to bury himself under his blankets and sleep the whole day. One of those days when the self-deprecating voices in his head sounded like they were screaming at him; when it felt like everyone was going to judge his every move and even his bed felt like it was too much but too little at the same time. 

He had no time to dwell on such feelings. It was still raining, like the gods were mocking the loss of Insomnia. Were mocking the fact that Prompto had no-one to grieve over, had nothing to lose to begin with. He needed to get up. Needed to get up and  _ support _ the others. Because that’s what they needed right now wasn't it? 

He needed to make sure Ignis remembered to eat; needed to remind Noct to talk to them instead of bottling everything up. He needed to be there for Gladio, to help him vent his frustrations, even if today it felt like those frustrations were aimed at him instead of their shitty situation in general. He didn’t have the drive to faff around with his contacts. He grabbed his glasses from his Camera case, a little bent and the paint was chipped, but he could still wear them. 

It was so cold today. He made sure to wear baggier clothing. Bell-bottom jeans, an oversized hoodie, gloves that weren’t fingerless for once, his usual boots and a scarf for good measure. He was warm and, more importantly, he felt  _ safe _ in these clothes. His hoodie had a big pocket at the front with a tartan design, and he stuffed his hands into it, hiding his face in his scarf. He didn’t bother trying to hide the bags under his eyes. He’d been up most of the night dealing with everyone’s nightmares. He wasn’t complaining. It was just so exhausting to deal with on his own and try to stay chipper and act like he wasn’t falling apart at the seams. 

God the voices were so loud today. Why couldn’t they shut up for once? 

He didn’t even care that he was the last one to wake up today. It was only 9 am anyway. By the time he walked to the garage, he felt about ready to drop dead. All his energy was gone. How the hell was he going to get through today? Didn’t they have a hunt or something to do?

_ Oh. Right. The Coeurls.  _ He sighed at the thought and deflated. The rain ran down his face, flattened his hair, and soaked through the bottom of his jeans. How long had he been standing here again? Right. 10 minutes. That was fine. Everything would be fine.

~~ It isn't fine. You’re a burden, they don't need you, why are you here? Stop fooling yourself.  ~~

**~~You’ll get them killed if you go with them. Useless.~~ **

He swallowed back a sob, lifted his head, and speed walked into the garage. He gave Cindy a smile that lasted too short and didn’t quite meet his eyes. The other three were already planning a route. That was fine. Prompto could collect himself while they did that. He was jolted out of his thoughts when Cid tapped his shoulder.

“Let’s...go into the back room for a while, kid.” The guys’ stopped what they were doing to look over at them. Prompto gave them a happy wave and followed Cid with a skip in his step. All of it was faked. They didn’t need to know that though. 

None of them commented on it, or looked suspicious. He didn’t know if that counted as a success or not. 

Cid closed the door behind them, sat Prompto down in one the chairs and ran a hand through his hair. When had he taken his cap off?

“Ye need ta tell them what’s wrong,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Prompto whispered, but his voice sounded hollow to his own ears, and he winced, averting his eyes.

Cid sat down with a heavy sigh. “Ya don’t need ta lie ta me, kid. I’ve seen it all before. People...tryna act like nuttin’s wrong so they can...try an’ keep e’ryone safe and happy.” He shifted in his seat, knowing this was exactly what he’d been doing. “I used ta do it with Reggie you know,” his voice went quiet, his eyes distant, “so I know it doesn't work. Just makes the crash all the harder ta deal with.”

It was silent, for a while, except for the voice in his head. Cid looked up at him, and Prompto couldn’t look away. 

“You need ta tell them. They won’t be mad. But if ya don't, then the crash’ll hurt all of ya.” he stood up, dusted off his pants and walked to the door. He opened it, but stopped before he walked out. “Jus’ think on it fer me,” he nodded his head at Prompto, then shut the door behind him.

He didn’t want to burden them. Not right now. Not with this.

~~**_They deserve better than you._ ** ~~


End file.
